Coal and Switches
by RapunzelK
Summary: Set in "Misa1"s post-movie universe. Santa Claus finds himself in need of some special assistance during an especially worrisome pre-Christmas season.
1. The Short List

"I just don't understand it," Santa Claus huffed, frustrated. The parchment list trailing around the tails of his holly-red coat and across the living room floor was long indeed, though not quite as long as the second list he held in his other hand.

"I tell you, Poinsettia, I'm concerned. This year's list is twenty-five names and almost six inches shorter than last year's!"

"Oh I'm sure it's nothing you need worry about," his wife soothed. "After all, children do grow out of their belief."

"But that's just it!" Santa Claus insisted. "Every year more and more children grow older and stop believing in me, and with every passing year they stop believing at a younger age."

"That isn't your fault, Dear," Mrs. Claus said gently, bringing a plate of gingerbread men and a mug of steaming hot cocoa with her into the living room.

"No, but that's not what really has me worried. Look at this, Poinsettia."

Obligingly, Poinsettia accepted the two reams of parchment, comparing the elegantly written ciphers at the bottom.

"Goodness!" she exclaimed, her tiny silver spectacles nearly slipping off her nose. "Oh Nicholas! This is terrible!"

Her husband nodded gravely. "It looks awful in black and white, doesn't it? There has been almost a fifteen percent increase in Naughty children over the last ten years. I haven't seen a spike this bad since the middle of the last decade. However, these figures were calculated just a few days before Christmas, during the height of the Good Behavior surge."

Mrs. Claus looked aghast, her rosebud lips parted in horror. "Nicholas this is terrible! Whatever can we do?"

"I'm afraid I'm not entirely sure," Santa Claus shrugged. "Naughty children never get any presents, but these children don't seem to care if they get nothing for Christmas. It's been such a long time since I had to deal with children this Naughty."

"What about those three little hooligans who kidnapped you some years back?" Mrs. Claus asked. "Quite the naughtiest trio of children I ever laid eyes on."

"Yes, well, old Jack set them straight. For all the trouble they cause, those rapscallions are certainly in awe of…" An inspired gleam had rekindled the twinkle in Santa Claus's eyes. "…the Pumpkin King," he finished, voice dropped to a soft whisper.

"The Pumpkin King?" Mrs. Claus blinked. "What on earth could Jack Skellington have to do with this?"

Santa Claus did not answer right away; he was already hurrying up the wide, holly decked staircase towards the bedroom. Once inside, he flung open a huge and heavy chest at the foot of the bed and plunged head and hands inside it.

"Nicholas what _are_ you doing?" his wife puffed in bewilderment, having chased her husband up the stairs.

"I haven't had to resort to this since the early half the nineteenth century," Santa Claus remarked to himself, throwing old cloaks, scarves, and mittens over his shoulder; the various articles of cold weather gear falling helter-skelter across the polished floorboards.

"What are you looking for?" Mrs. Claus asked, breath caught, stooping to collect the stray bits of wool and flannel from the floor.

"This!" Santa Claus shouted triumphantly. Standing, he held a battered old black woolen cloak high above his head. Patches and pockets crowded of body of the cloak both inside and out. The hood, huge and ragged, had deer antlers protruding from its crown and the back tapered to a pointed tip that ended in a ragged tassel. Mrs. Claus blinked.

"Nicholas, isn't that your old _Bellsnickle_ outfit?" she asked, puzzled.

"Not quite my dear," Santa Claus replied, voice muffled somewhat by further rummaging in the trunk. "Try a bit earlier, say Middle Ages or so."

Mrs. Claus gasped, the sound a mix of awe and disbelief. "Not _Krampus_ , surely?"

"Yes, _Krampus_," Santa Claus confirmed with a nod. With only a slight grunt, he stood and closed the trunk lid, a brown and black lump of ragged clothing in his arms. "There's no way in the world I'll be able to squeeze into these old rags again, but by gingerbread, I need _someone_ to inspire a little respect or soon I won't have any children left to give presents!"

"Nicholas are you sure?" Mrs. Claus pressed.

"Poinsettia, if I don't take action now, there will be twice as many Naughty children on my list next year. I don't want that to happen. Jack is just the man for the job. Besides, he's always wanted to have a more active role in this holiday and this will be the perfect opportunity."

"Well," sighed Mrs. Claus, "I suppose it can't hurt. I just hope he doesn't get carried away again."

"Don't worry, Snowflake," Santa Claus assured his wife with a wink and a kiss on her rosy red nose, "I'll be right there to see he doesn't get into too much trouble."


	2. An Offer

Cold sunshine spilled down over the gleaming hills of Christmas Town, giving the small village the illusion of being frosted in glistening sugar. The Skellington children, all accustomed to much dimmer light, squinted their eyes and eye sockets at the sun's sharp rays.

"Why did we have to come so early?" whined Arthur, mittened hand clenched in his father's as he struggled through, what was to him, knee-deep snow.

"It gets dark even earlier in Christmas Town than it does in Halloween Town," the Pumpkin King explained to his photophobic progeny. "It'll be dark by the time we leave, don't worry."

"Elves don't like to be outside in the dark. Ivy and her brothers aren't allowed to play outside once the sun goes down because it gets too cold, isn't that right dad?" Hazel, the youngest Skellington child, asked from her perch on her father's shoulders.

"That's absolutely right lumpling!" Jack affirmed with a chuckle. "How are you doing Dearest?" he called back over one bony shoulder to his wife. The Pumpkin Queen, whose balance was elegantly askew on perfectly flat ground, was being helped through the thick drifts by her two eldest sons.

"Oh fine Jack," she answered, her breath puffing in frosty clouds that were only slightly thicker than her husband and children's.

"Come on," Jack said merrily, "not far now!"

Indeed it wasn't. The Skellington family had crested the hill that led out for the glen that served as the nexus between holiday worlds. The first view of Christmas Town- in daylight or starlight- was always breathtaking. Pausing, the ghoulish family took in the kaleidoscopic sight before descending the steep hill towards the village below.

Rather than reporting to Santa Claus's house first, Halloween Town's royal family headed to the cozy home of Noel and Kotter. Ivy's parents had proved wary of Jack and Sally's small daughter Hazel- easily the least frightening of the family- and Sally had decided the phobia could not continue and had therefore taken matters into her own detachable hands. Terrible beauty might be sought after in Halloween Town, but it wasn't exactly the height of fashion in Christmas Town. In order to bridge the gap between the two worlds and converging cultures, Sally had begun writing notes and letters to the elf family. Due to the memorable event at Ivy's birthday party, the notes were always delivered by bat and not ghost. Motherhood had been common ground on which elf and rag doll had been able to form a hesitant friendship. Therefore, the mothers would be having tea and the children playtime while the kings of their respective holidays talked business. Accompanied by his elder sons, Jack made his way to Santa Claus's home near the center of town.

The boys- too old to be interested in playing with Elven children and too young to sit in on their father's clandestined business meeting- betook themselves to the workshop. The toy-making elves needed help with some of their magic tricks and practical joke items and the teenaged twins had a full list of suggestions and examples. Sans children, Jack finally proceeded to the home of the king of Christmas Town.

"Santa!" Jack exclaimed, grasping the old man's gloved hand in a firm shake. "It's so good to see you! You can't imagine how surprised I was to receive your letter. Always an honor to be invited to Christmas Town, always an honor!"

"Thank you Jack, it's good to see you again too." Stepping back, Santa Claus offered the Pumpkin King a seat in a short and generously over-stuffed chair. Jack sank into the thick pad of the seat while Santa Claus served him a mug of cocoa and a plate of cookies.

"You know, I can't help being reminded of you every time I see one of these," Santa Claus smiled. Jack picked up a snowman-shaped sugar cookie thickly glazed in white icing with chocolate chip eyes and a candy corn nose and laughed.

"I can't imagine why!"

Santa Claus smiled, a lesser incarnation of his guest's amusement.

"I'm sure you didn't invite me over just to compare my devilish good looks to those of snowmen," Jack teased. "Tell me Mr. Claus, what was it you wanted to discuss?"

"I want to show you something, Jack."

Leaning, Santa Claus took out a large snow globe, shook it, and set it on the table. Jack's eye sockets widened as the sparkling snow inside the crystal globe swirled into a living image. A child, perhaps seven or eight- old enough to know better- was lying on the floor of a department store kicking and screaming. Face red and mouth agape, the child bawled and pounded the floor with his fists.

"What on earth?" the Pumpkin King asked, bewildered.

The scene changed to a little girl attempting to coax a cat down from a high perch atop a shelf. Her method, however, was proving somewhat less than comforting to the terrified feline. Her chubby hands were clenched around the cat's ginger-striped tail, pulling with all her weight. The cat yowled and dug in its claws, adding deep furrows to the already impressive crosshatch of scratches in the shelf's surface.

"Is this some sort of trick?" Jack blinked, scratching his skull in confusion.

"I suppose you could say so," Santa Claus replied. "It's a similar principle to your 'trick-or-treat'. The problem is, these children, in order to receive their treat, are not supposed to be playing dirty tricks, they are supposed to be on their very best behavior."

Sockets wide, Jack watched the images inside the snowball shift- a boy of ten or so yanking hard on the braids of a female classmate, a girl of six shoving another into a mud puddle, a gang of boys tying tin cans to the tail of a frantic puppy, and a seemingly endless montage of children fighting and bickering amongst themselves.

"Well, it's terrifying, I'll admit," Jack said, "but I thought Naughty children didn't receive presents?"

"They don't," Santa Claus confirmed, expression as grim as his tone. "I'm afraid positive reinforcement just isn't working on many children these days. There was a time when children respected authority and always strove to do what's right."

Jack nodded. "Yes, I'm doing my best to train my own children to do just that. I want them to be terrifying, certainly, but not to a degree that is harmful. We really don't want anyone- well most everyone- to be afraid of a good fright."

"Just so. You know you and your monsters often help to keep children safe."

"Why Santa! I wouldn't have thought you'd known!" Jack exclaimed, skull warming in embarrassed pleasure.

"Of course. I remember when Jenny Green Teeth kept children from drowning in wells, and Boggarts under the bed kept them from wandering around in the dark after they're supposed to be in bed. Will O' The Wisps attempt to chase children back to their homes, not get them more lost and the Night Mare may give a terrifying ride, but she does no real harm. The problem is, Jack, children aren't afraid any more; they have no fear of anything."

"They have no respect- not for authority or their own safety," Jack concluded.

"Exactly," Santa Claus said with an emphatic nod.

"Well, you seem to have quite a problem there, Santa. Scaring isn't really your department. You certainly put the fear of all that is good and sweet into _me_ that Christmas night I almost ruined your holiday, but I'm not sure that will really inspire all these Naughty children."

Santa Claus was smiling, rosy red circles forming high on his round cheeks.

"Which is exactly why I asked you to come, Jack."

"Would you like me to give you some pointers?" the Pumpkin King offered. "I don't think scary faces would work well on you, but I'm certain you'd be champion at going bump in the night!"

"Actually, Jack," said Santa Claus, standing and placing a wrapped package on the table, "I was hoping you would."

"Me?" Jack gaped, confused. One bony brow quirked in confusion, he eyed the present. The wrapping wasn't the typical bright and shiny paper usually favored by Christmas Town residents. Instead it was lumpy and ill-shaped, wrapped in simple brown paper and tied with hairy twine.

"Open it!" Santa Claus urged. Not knowing what else to do, Jack reached with thin fingers and pulled at the knotted string. The package fell open with the muffled crackle of folded paper. Inside was a dark-colored lump of cloth and a pair of animal horns.

"What the devil?" Jack asked, holding up the horned hood of a long black cloak.

"Not quite, though I believe some thought I was."

Jack blinked. "Beg pardon?" he asked, utterly lost.

"You may not believe it, but there was a time when I wasn't always so jolly. Oh I still brought presents, but the stakes were much higher back in those days. I didn't have the dedicated helpers then that I do now. Children had to behave- or else. They called me _Bellsnickle_ or _Krampus_, the English knew me as Black Peter but despite the different names, the job was the same: frightening children who didn't behave."

The Pumpkin King's jaw had fallen open in disbelief. "Santa…you aren't…you don't mean…!"

"I am. Jack, I need you to help me. I'm no good at being scary, but it's second nature to you. Also, you understand the concept of little frights for little people. I don't want to traumatize children, just get them to understand that negative behavior brings negative consequences."

"Mr. Clause," Jack announced, "I promise I will do everything in my power to turn around this behavior situation! When do I start?"

"You have from December seventh until Christmas Eve."

"I'll do my very best!" Jack stood and offered Santa Claus a bony hand and a wide grin.

"That's the spirit!" Santa Claus replied, returning both gestures.


	3. Results

"So what did you and Santa talk about, dad?" JR wanted to know.

"Oh just business," his father smiled enigmatically. "Santa needs a little extra assistance this year and…" he paused dramatically, waiting while eye sockets widened and breath caught, "he needs _me_ to help him!"

"Awright, daddy!" Guy crowed, punching the frosty air with an orange-knit mitten.

"Are you going to fly in the sleigh with Santa on Christmas?" Hazel asked from her perch on her father's shoulders.

"Oh Jack…" breathed Sally, her voice a light mist of ice before her uneven red lips, "are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, considering what happened last time?"

"Don't worry about a thing, Baby Doll," he assured her. "I won't be sharing the spotlight with Santa this year, I'll be more of an opening act, if you will. Apparently there are a lot of children out there who just don't appreciate Christmas the way they should."

Sally, her stitched brow creased in unease, did not look convinced.

"Darling, I promise," vowed Jack, hand over his heart, "Santa Clause asked me to do this for him and I was only too happy. I'll just be making short trips to some of the very Naughtiest children starting December seventh and finishing December twenty-fourth. That's all. Then it's back to planning next year's Halloween full-time!"

"You mean you won't be in charge for over two weeks?" Nicky sounded as if he couldn't decide whether he was distraught or excited.

"I'll be part-timing. After all, the two of you are more than capable of dealing with things while I'm out. You're going to have to take over the family business some time. I have every confidence in you!"

Sally remembered when those words had been applied to her, and they did not ease her anxiety. Still, if Santa Clause had _asked_ …

"Well, I suppose so…" she stammered, hoping the king of Christmas Town knew what he was doing.


	4. Christmas Switches

"Well, at least you still look like you- an archaic you," Sally admitted as she put the finishing touches on Jack's costume.

"Thank you, Sweetheart," Jack said, kissing his wife on the cheek. "It does seem to suit me better. Red just wasn't my color."

Sally couldn't help giggling at his rakish wink. "Well, be careful out there. There will be snow and ice and a lot of other things that you don't have to deal with on Halloween night."

"I consider myself an ambassador," Jack intoned loftily as if addressing the citizens from the town hall podium, "of Christmas and all that peace on earth and good will toward men can offer- should children choose to behave themselves. I promise, my dear, that I shall be on my most horrible behavior."

Pulling the antler-crowned hood up over his head, Jack turned to admire himself in the mirror. The long ragged cloak swirled dramatically around his narrow body. The rough-woven tunic, threadbare trousers, and shepherd's boots giving him the appearance of a Medieval scarecrow.

"Do I look very terrifying, my love?" he asked. Sally clasped her hands together against her cheek and smiled.

"Absolutely horrific," she sighed. "If you can't get all those Naughty children to behave, no one can."

"Thank you Baby Doll," Jack said, gathering her close. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck," she breathed before losing herself deep in his kiss.


	5. Thank You Notes

_My Dear Mr. Claus,_

_I trust the results of our little campaign are satisfactory. I, for one, found the experience quite enlightening as well as exhilarating and I continue to be profoundly honored to be included in your annual festivities. Believe me, my good sir, participating in your holiday has far surpassed my wildest expectations. Although I certainly have no desire to see a continuance of Naughty children, I should be pleased to work with you again should the occasion arise._

_I have not had a chance to compare the results of my labors myself, but I believe you shouldn't have to worry about any further misbehavior this year. Indeed, you should be able to add those extra twenty-five names to your list along with several more. I think there is something to be said for tough love. Children need to understand that their actions- all their actions- have consequences; some are good and some are bad._

_That being said, I would like to attempt your own favored method of positive reinforcement. However, I am going to need your assistance in order to carry out my own little scheme. Please let me know when it would be best to call upon your factory at your earliest convenience._

_Yours very sincerely,_

_Jack Skellington_

_Pumpkin King_


	6. Better Watch Out

"LOCK! SHOCK!! BARREL!!!"

The trio of trouble-makers scrambled to escape but too late, the Pumpkin King had discovered them and now had them cornered within their hiding place.

"Why on earth would you do a mean thing like that?" Jack asked, his most imperious Displeased Parent scowl distorting his skull.

"I-it wasn't us!" Barrel stammered, doing his best to shove a large screwdriver into a back pocket that he didn't have. The rusty tool fell to the uneven ground behind him with a loud "clang", rolling to a stop at Jack's feet. The unamused bone man arched a brow ridge at the tricksters.

"Ummm…" Lock stalled.

"That was a mean and rotten thing to do to poor Clown, tampering with his unicycle like that," Jack scolded. "He could have been seriously hurt! Now go apologize and help him fix it- _properly_!"

Not wanting to face their monarch's wrath, the three children hurried to collect their tools and correct the damage. Jack watched from afar as they stammered clumsy apologies and helped to fix the sabotaged unicycle, all the while casting nervous glances over their shoulders. When at last the one-wheeled vehicle was complete and the Clown had squeakily pedaled away, Jack beckoned to the trick-or-treaters once more.

"We did what you said, Jack," Lock announced with valiantly attempted bravado.

"We fixed the unicycle, Jack." Barrel laid the rusty screwdriver at the Pumpkin King's feet as if presenting a peace offering.

"We said we were sorry, Jack," Shock quavered. He half believed she meant it. That in mind, he let his frown soften into a smile.

"Good work, you three. I'm glad you made amends."

The children blinked blankly up at him, uncomprehending.

"Look," Jack said, lowering himself to one knee so that he was eye-level with them. "The three of you are the finest trick-or-treaters the world has ever seen! Your pranks are inspired, your mischief genius! However, I want you all to consider something the next time you play a trick. Before you play a joke on someone, or set up a booby trap, ask yourself this: 'is this going to hurt someone?' Halloween isn't about bullying or traumatizing others, it's about the thrill of the weird, the ghastly, and the unknown! I don't want you to stop playing tricks—"

"You don't?" gaped Lock.

"Really?" Shock asked, boggled. "I thought for sure you'd want us to knock it off!"

"Not at all," Jack assured her, resting a hand on her and Lock's narrow shoulders. "I'm proud of some of the amazing stunts you've pulled, but I'm really worried about some of the others. The idea is to give people a thrill, not scar them for life. Now…"

"Here it comes…" mumbled Barrel, bracing himself with a preemptive wince.

"…because you did such a good job apologizing and helping Clown fix his unicycle, I have a little something for you."

As one, the trick-or-treaters' downcast faces snapped upwards to look at Jack, eyes wide with both fear and curiosity. Their expressions faded to a mix of surprise and bewilderment as Jack presented each with a wrapped package. The colors were not Christmas red or green, instead they bore a resemblance to the Pumpkin King's earlier, unsuccessful attempt at Christmas gifts.

"What the heck is this?" Barrel asked, holding his box covered in orange pumpkin-printed paper at arm's length as if it might bite at any moment.

Jack smiled, amused. "Just a little reward for your good behavior. Naughty children never get Christmas presents, you know."

"Christmas presents?" Lock echoed puzzled. "You mean you're gonna give us stuff just for being nice to people?"

"Something like that."

"Weird…" Lock might feign indifference, but there was a smile on his impish face as he tore into his own gray-and-black package. Jack smiled. He, Santa Claus, and Sally had collaborated on suitable gifts for the young trio of mischief-makers. It hadn't been easy to come up with gifts that they would like and yet would not be able to use to cause anyone grief. For Barrel, they had chosen a thick comic book; Lock got an intricate iron puzzle, and Shock, on Sally's recommendation, received a new dress in her spider-ribboned package.

"Awesome!" cried Barrel flipping through his comic book.

"We oughtta apologize more often," Lock agreed. Shock said nothing; she was too busy holding her dress up under her chin, attempting to model it without actually putting it on.

"Now you won't be getting a gift for every act of kindness, but you will get a little something every now and again when you've been exceptionally good. Just make sure your tricks are fun, not mean, because I'll be keeping an eye on you," Jack admonished kindly. "And so will Santa Claus."


End file.
